Northern (black) Phoebe and fledglings
Love that my new Tamron 18-400 mm lens can go closer to places I can’t.
Spring is a fragrant and happy place when roses bloom!
Does your faith-life even require Jesus?
Got the maxims memorized.
Got the rules down.
Is religion more your bulwark than relationship—
behavior and image more important than face-falling service,
open-hearted devotion to His worthiness?
Has purpose surpassed person?
Maybe it’s time to re-evaluate this substance-hoped-for idea.
Are we a scattered and lost flock, devoted to a text but without a message?
I think I would rather falter on a rough road than walk resolutely down a worn and wrong path,
stuck in a form of obedience . . . but without a desperate, clinging trust.
My will is contrary to my dedication;
my rituals supplant my connection, offering a form without reality.
Am I so right-on religious that as a Christian I can do this thing without Jesus?
Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. ~Psalm 51:10
I want to do…
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. . . at least, it makes me happy.
I walked out in the front yard to distribute more ladybugs on my aphid-infested roses. As I walked by my daisies, I was surrounded by a flock, a swarm, a gaggle–what do you call those things?–of painted lady butterflies. The superbloom has brought a lot of them up from Mexico in migration, but we thought we had seen the biggest wave, but, not! They are everywhere, and given they like the lavender, daisies, roses, and (dead) lilacs in my yard, we have a downright sanctuary for them! It is like walking in a fairyland.